'But I thought you said the ship was due to dock tomorrow? Surely after that there's nothing to worry about?' She admired him for taking care of what was just one small part of his vast business empire, but she ached for him to be back. She saw his face in her mind's eye a hundred times a day. His tall, virile body haunted her dreams, and if her voice sounded sulky she couldn't help it.
'Yes, I know, but I hadn't realised that a cousin of my mother's is a passenger on the boat—an elderly lady not in good health, and I've promised my father I will fly out to the island and personally escort the old dear back to Greece. I have to. She is family.'
'You must have a huge family,' Jacy mused, 'if that party at the Ritz was anything to go by.'
'Yes-' his deep voice sank to a throaty drawl'—and over the past week or two I find I keep having this inexplicable urge to add to it.'
Jacy's breath stopped in her throat. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She didn't dare believe it, but she couldn't stop the hope that blossomed in her heart. She didn't know how to respond and her hand gripped the receiver, her knuckles white with the strain. Was he suggesting a commitment? Then he burst her bubble by adding, 'But I'm fighting it. I picture Tom's twin boys, have a stiff drink, and it's gone. Enough about me. When can I call you again?'
She gave him the address of the hotel she would be staying at in Manchester, and long after she had put the phone down she was still mulling over Leo's surprising admission, and his equally quick retraction. She would be a fool to read more into his words than he meant. He didn't even like her, she reminded herself. He actually thought her home was financed by past lovers. It was sex, a chemical attraction, nothing more; and as long as she went into the relationship with her eyes wide open Leo couldn't hurt her.
The next eight days seemed to Jacy to be the longest of her life. Her trip to Manchester was successful. After spending four days going through records and interviews, she had her culprit, and a good laugh... When Leo called her on the Tuesday she finished the case she could not wait to tell him.
'You sound happy without me,' Leo remarked curtly. 'I hope you're behaving yourself.'
'I am.' She couldn't hold back her chuckle. 'You know the case I was working on with the string of hair-care clinics and then the bottling plant? Well, you'll never guess who was setting all the fires.'
'I have no doubt that, with your inherited talent for unearthing the dirt, you will tell me. But isn't the owner the usual culprit?'
'Not in this case. It was a handsome young man who had unfortunately gone prematurely bald. He'd been a customer for three years. It turned out he was so furious that none of the treatments or the hair restorer had worked after he'd spent thousands trying them that he systematically set out to destroy the whole company by burning the clinics down.'
Deep laughter greeted her revelation. 'Ah, Jacy, you're so good for me; I can always depend on you to lift my spirits. Look after yourself. I'll see you at seven on Saturday, if not sooner.'
Unfortunately Jacy could not depend on Leo to lift her spirits, she thought sadly as she replaced the receiver. His derisory crack about her talent for 'unearthing the dirt' left her in no doubt. Leo might be temporarily eager for her body, but his opinion of her as a person was negligible. He was a sophisticated, expert lover, and she wanted him; lying in bed at night, she couldn't sleep for the physical ache of frustration that gnawed at her body. But in her heart of hearts she knew such a hedonistic arrangement as Leo had in mind would not suit her.
'Come on, Fredsaid. Come on...' Jacy screamed at the top of her voice. The chestnut with the white blaze, the jockey wearing the pink and blue colours of an Arab sheikh, shot past the winning post half a length in front of its nearest rival. 'I've won, I've won!' Jacy cried in delight and, turning around from her vantage-point of the box window, she pushed her way through the crush of people to where Liz was standing at the sumptuous buffet. 'Guess what?' She tapped her on the shoulder. 'Guess what?'
'You've won again.' Liz groaned in mock-horror, and popped a cracker covered in caviar into her mouth.
'By my calculation, a fiver at ten to one means fifty pounds and my stake back.' Jacy had no idea how stunning she looked, her beautiful face alight with joy, her smart cream and black dog-tooth jacket hung open to reveal a clinging cream silk blouse tied in a cravat around her neck, not unlike a jockey's tie; but there all resemblance to the male ended. A wide black leather belt emphasised her tiny waist and the matching checked skirt fitted snugly over her hips to end an inch above her knee. Plain black high-heeled shoes accentuated her long legs.
'You'll have to tell me your secret, Jacy. That's the fourth time you've won today, and muggins here has yet to back a winner.'
Jacy, her golden hair swept back from her face to fall in a tumbling mass of curls down her back, laughed out loud at Liz's woebegone expression. 'Just lucky.'
'You know what they say: lucky with money, unlucky in love,' a deep, dark voice drawled mockingly behind her head, and Jacy's heart somersaulted in her chest. Liz melted tactfully into the background. Jacy spun round and saw the distinguished figure of Leo standing about a foot away from her. He looked magnificent in a pale grey business suit, and pristine white silk shirt. His glittering dark eyes swept her from head to toe and then he added, 'But if you play your cards right you could get both.'
'What? How did you...? Why?' The shock of seeing Leo so unexpectedly made her intelligence desert her. His hands were warm and strong as they curved around her upper arms, drawing her closer. She gazed up at him, speechless, and saw what was in his eyes: he was going to kiss her. They were in a room full of people. 'Not here,' she warned.
'You would be insulted if I didn't,' Leo mocked and his dark head descended, his mouth covering hers.
Her heart pounded against her ribcage. He was right, damn him! she thought wryly as her body swayed boneless in his hold. Her skin felt hot; she felt her nipples tighten, pressed hard against the firm wall of his muscular chest. His tongue invaded her mouth, and she stopped thinking altogether...
Leo recovered his composure first, and with a self-satisfied smile, his dark eyes intent on her flushed face, he said softly, 'You still want me, Jacy, but patience. I need to see the last race and then I will take you home.'
She should have objected to his arrogant assumption that she was his for the taking, but her body had already betrayed her. Fighting to regain her self-control, she stepped back. 'You never said why you're here,' she queried. Had he returned to England earlier than expected and checked with her office and followed her? she imagined happily, very flattered.
'Tom invited me, but I didn't expect to be back in time. But I got in a couple of hours ago, and as I have a horse running in the last race I thought I might as well drive down and pick up the trophy personally,' Leo explained with casual arrogance as he turned and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
So much for her over-active imagination, Jacy thought drily, and was glad Leo had not seen the flash of disappointment in her face as he turned back to her, taking a sip from the crystal glass.
'I didn't know you kept racehorses,' she said coolly. 'And aren't you being just a little premature?' One finely arched brow rose mockingly. 'There are seven other horses in the race, Leo.' She was proud of her sophisticated response. Even though her insides were churning with sexual excitement
'Not at all, Jacy, sweetheart. Haven't you realised yet? I always win.' His dark eyes held hers and she had the oddest feeling there was a warning in his statement, but as he continued talking she dismissed the disturbing thought from her mind, seduced by the deep, rich tone of his voice. I had Greek Legend sent over from my racing stables in France specifically for this race. It is one of the best of my string, so take my advice and have a flutter on it.'
She glanced down at the race card in her hand, and sure enough number three, Greek Legend, with the owner's name Kozakis next to it, was there. Some perverse sense of independence made
her say, I don't know, Leo, I rather fancy Royal Speedmaster.'